You might have noticed that I’ve been curiously absent for a bit.
Well, a bit. A week. Well, a week is a bit.
Rest assured it wasn’t on purpose. Well… maybe a bit. Well, actually not. You ever get so tired you go to bed at 9 pm? That thing you haven’t done since you were eight years old? Yup.
So this job training thing went well, actually. I learnt stuff. I love learning stuff! Give me more stuff I can learn! So now I’m just waiting for them to send me a piece of paper that says, yes, you can edit other people’s shit now. I mean, I’ve edited other people’s shit before but I never had a piece of paper that actually said I could. So if anyone needs an editor, I’m looking for paper-approved work experience. And money. Bummer, right?
My life would probably be easier if I had a useful talent, like cooking, or fixing stuff, or a knack for people. As it is, my biggest talent is finding mistakes other people made. Which also explains the history of my love life, ba-dum-TSS!
My other talent is making horrible jokes.
This Pringles can keeps falling out of my hand as I type this, which is probably the universe’s way of trying to keep me from consuming even more calories. I generally eat too many carbs and too much unhealthy shit, why, because I’m stressed, I’m tired, food makes me happy, and because I bloody well can. Still don’t understand how we as a species can go about planning life-long Mars missions, yet somehow we don’t have some sort of pill that makes your body reject calories. What’s the deal, science? At least make salad taste like cake.
Ugh, salad. I still can’t eat salad. I don’t know how other people do it. It’s water held together by chlorophyll. And it’s bitter tasting. How? How you do eet?! Isn’t the bitterness a sign that you should not eat it? And how many vitamins can possibly be swimming around in all that water anyway?
I’m kinda through believing all that shit about being healthy anyway, mainly because it never seems to work for me. There was a time (barely a year ago, actually) when I worked out five times a week and through a feat of barely imaginable, not to mention barely manageable, strength of will cut down on carbs and didn’t eat chocolate or sugar besides what you might find in fruit. Did I have more energy? Nah, I was just tired all the time. Did I feel better? Nope, just miserable. Was my skin better? Hell no. Good on you if you can make that shit work, I can’t. And anyway, no one in my family ever worked out regularly or ate five servings of vegetables every day, and so far no one died under the age of 90, with the exception of skinny-as-a-twig grandpa who loved hiking and who had a fatal heart attack at age 80. So, in short, I think I’ll live.
Really, the only reason I even kinda sorta watch my weight is because I don’t want to go clothes shopping again. Shopping is stressful. I love having new things, but I don’t love the process of acquiring new things.
You know what else sucks about clothes? Pitiable lack of pockets. Every item of clothing should come with at least one big pocket. This is the 21st century, goddamn, I need to put my phone somewhere! Until humans develop technology holding pouches on our bodies, you’ll just have to give us pockets!
That’d be great, though, pouches…
Ugh, better get back to work. So much stuff to write, still.